Angel of Darkness

by Cynthia Eden

  No, but all the vamp slaying would explain why she’d been sent after Jeff Quint. He preys on us. Now we prey on him. Rip out his throat. Make him bleed. Make him beg. How long had those words played through her mind? Over and over, until her will was gone and all she could do when Jeff came at her that night was ... attack.

  He hadn’t even had the chance to get out his stake.

  Not like his big brother.

  Mike didn’t take his hand off her. Those thick fingers just dug deeper as they seemed to squeeze right to the bone. Behind him, the guys—five of them, all big, leather-clad and with go-to-hell grins—began to close in.

  “I gave you a chance to run,” Mike snapped at Keenan. “Last call, dumbass. You stand with the vamp bitch or you save your own ass and get the hell out of here.”

  “Get out of here, Keenan,” she whispered. She was going to fight, but this wasn’t his fight. In case things didn’t go her way—the odds were a bit heavy in old Mike’s favor—she didn’t want Keenan paying for her crimes.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” His gaze burned into Mike. “Get the hand off her, human, or lose it.”

  She had the feeling he really, really meant those words. “Keenan ...”

  But Mike didn’t drop his hold. He did bring up his stake, getting it too close to her heart for comfort.

  Then Keenan shoved his hand against Mike’s chest. Mike flew back into the air and slammed into two of his biker buddies.

  “You had your chance,” Keenan said. “Dumbass, you should have backed off while you could.”

  Mike sprang back to his feet and attacked, with all his men running right behind him. Six against two. Not bad odds. Actually kind of good considering the bikers were human and—

  Keenan jumped in front of her, swinging out with his fist and sending two guys flying back. The men hit the walls of the alley and didn’t get up.

  Okay, four against two. Even better.

  Keenan grabbed the next guy around the throat. The stake dropped from the blond’s hand as he clawed at Keenan’s hold, struggling to get free. His pale face began to purple.

  She grabbed for Keenan’s arm, afraid the guy was about to die right there. “Keenan, no.”

  “Callin’ back your dog?” Mike was there, charging by Keenan and coming for her. “Nothin’ can save you, bitch, nothin’!”

  He ran at her with the stake up. His buddies took Keenan, swarming him. Her teeth burned, her claws lengthened, and when Mike lunged at her with that stake—

  She just ripped it out of his hands, broke it, and tossed the pieces behind her.

  That didn’t stop Mike. No, he swung at her and slammed his fist right into her face.

  Definitely remember that.

  The bloodlust rose but she stumbled back.

  “That’s right, run, get ready to bleed.”

  Um, no. She wouldn’t be bleeding for him. His fist came at her again. She caught it in her left hand. Then her fist went at him, plowing into his cheek. Not the light hit of her pre-vamp days. Nicole swung with a blow strong enough to break Mike’s jaw. When the bones crunched, she knew the punch had broken his jaw.

  He kicked out, his booted heel aiming for her stomach, but she twisted and he missed her, and he fell to the ground.

  “I’m sorry about your brother,” she said the words between pants. “If I had it all to do again ...” But there’d been no choice at the end. He’d fought her and if she hadn’t killed him, he would have taken her head.

  “Fuckin’ bitch ...” Mike shoved up and yanked a knife out of his boot. “He should’ve killed you.” He shot off the ground and sliced with his knife.

  The blade never touched her skin. Keenan grabbed Mike’s hand, twisted, broke the guy’s wrist, and the knife clattered to the ground.

  “I said you’d lose this hand,” Keenan reminded him.

  Veins bulged along Mike’s neck.

  Behind them, she saw the scattered remains of Mike’s crew. Still alive—she could see their chests moving—but out of commission. No backup for Mike.

  Nicole stalked to the biker. She didn’t touch him. Wouldn’t.

  “Gonna bite me now?” Blood dripped from his lips.

  Oh, she wanted to. Even more, she needed that blood.

  Keenan’s shove had the guy sinking to his knees and staring up at her with his throat bared.

  “Gonna kill me like you did Jeff?”

  Her gaze swept to the unconscious men once more, and she held onto her control with all the strength she possessed. “Do you always hunt in a pack?” Wolves weren’t the only ones smart enough to do that. Mike hunted vampires, but he was human. Humans against vamps—that equaled a serious disadvantage. One he’d tried to make up for with the numbers tonight.

  “Not tellin’ you a damn thing about how I hunt.” Deep lines bracketed his mouth. Keenan still had a grip on Mike’s hand and she could see the sweat that beaded Mike’s upper lip. “Not talkin’ so you might as well rip me open.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry about your brother.” She could understand Mike wanting her blood. The other vamps he’d killed—maybe they’d deserved to be put down. But maybe they hadn’t. We’re not all evil. Not when we have a choice.

  “Bull ... shit ... just a ... damn ... bloodsucker.”

  Right. She was. And he could see her fangs. But ...

  But she wasn’t under the control of the Born Master anymore. Her gaze slipped to Keenan because what she had to say was for him as much as Mike. “You know—you know when vampires are Taken ...” Taken, the term for vampires who were made through the blood exchange. Made, not Born. Only a very few were actually born as vampires. The Born Masters were the strongest, baddest, and hardest to kill vamps out there.

  She took a breath and glanced back at Mike. “When they’re Taken, they’re linked to the vamps that changed them.” Only the vamp who changed her had been dead. So she hadn’t been told anything about vamp rules and powers. She’d had to find everything out the hard way.

  “I don’t give a shit about—”

  “Vamps are linked, through the blood, back to the Born Master that started their line.” She’d talk, he’d listen. Not like Mike had much of a choice. “We’re linked, and the Born Master—he can control us, he can force his thoughts into our minds and—”

  “No fuckin’ Born killed my brother! It was you!”

  Her shoulders sagged. He was right. The Born had been in her head, whispering, ordering, breaking her will, but in the end, she’d been the one to make the kill. Her teeth. His throat.

  “Kill me, kill me and get this damn mess over!”

  Nicole shook her head. “I’m not killing you.” The voice in her head was long gone. The Born, Grim, was dead, courtesy of a female bounty hunter named Dee Daniels. There were no more whispers in her mind these days. No more hell.

  Control. “I’m not a killer.” Anymore. She drank to survive, that was all. Not to kill.

  Because if she crossed the line and started killing, she knew that Dee would come after her, too. Dee had warned all those Taken by Grim ... kill and I’ll come.

  Nicole wasn’t particularly in the mood to face off against Dee or the Night Watch Bounty Hunting Agency.

  “Let him go, Keenan,” she said quietly.

  Keenan dropped his hold.

  Mike fell forward. His hands slapped against the concrete.

  “Don’t cross my path, I won’t cross yours.” They’d both just keep living. She eased back and her shoulder brushed Keenan’s. “Let’s get out of here.”

  They’d taken five steps when she heard the rustle of sound. Clothing. A scrape of wood.

  She spun back around. Mike was on his feet, a stake in his left hand, and he was barreling for her again.

  Crossing her path.

  Keenan tried to shove her back. No way. She shoved him. Keenan went down. Her arm came up, and she blocked the blow. The stake hovered in the air. Mike strained, trying to shove down and impale her heart.

/>   “I’m not a killer,” she told him as the bloodlust burned and called her a liar. “But if you keep coming at me, I will fight back.”

  “Good,” he spat. “Cause I’m not stoppin’. That was my brother, my flesh, mine! I’m not stoppin’ ’til yer rottin’ in the ground!”

  Unfortunate. She really didn’t want to kill him because she’d promised herself she wouldn’t take another life.

  But she wasn’t in the mood to die, either. No matter what death angel might be circling her.

  “Come at me again,” her last warning to him, “and I’ll drain you dry.”

  “Just like you did Jeff?”

  Through gritted teeth, she managed, “Yes.” She yanked the stake from him and drove it into his shoulder. He howled as his blood flew into the air.

  Keenan drove his fist into Mike’s face. That stopped the yelling and Mike joined his unconscious men on the ground.

  Keenan met her stare, his eyes dark. “If you leave him alive, he’ll just come after you again.”

  “Maybe.” Probably. “But I have to give him the chance.” To walk away. Just walk away.

  Yet with blood involved, would the guy walk? This wasn’t about pride, it was about family.

  Vengeance.

  He’ll come after me again.

  And she’d have to kill him. But not now. Not tonight. The scent of flowers that thickened the air—the angel that was close—he’d have to wait on her prey.

  “Maybe he’ll wake up smart.” I could have killed you. I gave you a chance.

  Give me one.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” she said. Before the guys on the ground woke up and before those sirens she heard got any closer.

  Coming home again—bad mistake. There too many dangers to her in New Orleans.

  But then, these days, it seemed like someone was always after her.

  Because I’m marked for death?

  Time was running out for her.

  “Come on,” he said, and snagged her hand with his. She heard the crack of anger in his voice and hesitated. He knows. He knew about the darkness in her now. He’d realized she wasn’t the woman he’d watched before. While he’d been away, her bad side had most definitely come out to play.

  “Hurry, Nicole, come on!” Then they were running, streaking down the streets and darting through the alleys. Bourbon Street came and went, the crowd a blur around her. Voices, laughter. Bodies brushing. Faster, faster they went as they pushed into bars, darted outside, and cut through the city.

  Then ...

  Silence.

  They’d stopped outside a voodoo shop. The place was closed for the night. The windows and doors were covered with thick bars. The street was empty—everyone was busy partying a few blocks away. Nicole sagged, her breath heaving. Safe. For now.

  “You killed.” The anger was back in Keenan’s voice. More reckoning time.

  She brushed her hands against her thighs, sucked in more air, and managed a jerky nod.

  “After what that vamp did to you in the alley ...” He shook his head and stared at her with confusion clear in his gaze. “You killed someone else?”

  More than one “someone else.” She cleared her throat. “You know about the Borns.” She’d fought, for as long and as hard as she could. But he’d broken her. “They take away your will.” She’d been linked to Grim from the moment she took her first breath. She’d heard his whisper in her mind, taunting her, and as the days passed and she became weaker, that whisper had turned into a scream.

  She paced away from Keenan. The heat of the night wrapped around her. The scent of the river teased her nose. “I didn’t want to kill.” She flung out the words. “Do you really think I could ever want that?”

  She’d killed the vamp who attacked her, but that had been self-defense. No choice. And the others—

  How long are you going to keep justifying?

  She swallowed. “He put the compulsion to attack in my head. The men he sent me after—they’d been killing vamps.” Right, like that was such a bad thing. Most of the vamps she’d met had lived to torture and slaughter.

  Grim had made sure that his Taken were just like him.

  “You’d never killed ... not until that night.” Now Keenan sounded sad and his voice made her heart ache. “I knew—the first time I saw you in Mexico, I knew you looked different.”

  Fangs. Claws. Seduction. Blood. Yes, she’d gotten some new features. Not exactly upgrades. “I had to change in order to survive.” She wouldn’t apologize for all that she’d done. The killings—yes, she regretted them and had vowed not to take another life, but the other things ... Seduction, blood drinking—I had to survive.

  His gaze raked her.

  What did he see?

  A monster? Or a woman?

  “Wishing you’d touched me and let me die that night?” The question slipped from her lips, and, oh, damn, she hadn’t meant to say that. She’d been thinking it—for days now—but she hadn’t meant to say it.

  His eyes narrowed into chips of blue ice.

  She spun around and began marching, um, running, down the street. She didn’t want to hear his answer. Didn’t want to know that the man who’d had her back these last few days actually wished that she was dead.

  Enough people were already wishing that.

  Hard hands caught her and hauled her back against a muscled chest. “Never say that.”

  He whirled her around. His eyes didn’t look like ice anymore. Black now, not blue, and burning.

  “Keenan, I—”

  His mouth took hers. Not soft. Not gentle. No hesitant lover. Hard. Rough. The kiss was wild with need.

  The fear in her heart pushed her to be wild, too. She grabbed his arms and pulled him closer. They stumbled back and her shoulders rapped into the wood of the nearby building.

  She opened her mouth wider, sucking on his tongue, and taking everything she could get from him. His taste filled her mouth, had her arching against him.

  He still wanted her. He knew what she’d become, and he wasn’t turning away. He was touching her, his hands greedy and possessive, stroking and caressing, and her angel wasn’t running.

  Neither was she. Not now.

  Even through their clothes, the hard length of his cock pushed against her sex. Aroused. Thick and strong.

  She wanted him in her. Nicole didn’t care where they were. Didn’t care about anything right then—but him.

  Need him. Want him.

  His body. His blood. Oh, a taste of his blood would be heaven right then.

  His hand shoved under her shirt. His fingers pushed under her bra. His thumb scraped across her nipple.

  Yes.

  “The building’s deserted.”

  He was right; she didn’t hear any sounds from inside and—

  Keenan stepped back, but kept a hold on her arm. “I need you.”

  She was on fire for him.

  He kicked open the door. One kick, and the wood flew inward. Then he pulled her inside. An empty space. No furniture, but walls, privacy and ...

  He pushed her against the nearest wall. Keenan drove his tongue in her mouth and took.

  His hands went to her ass and he jerked her up, pressing her hard to the thick bulge of his arousal.

  She held him tight. Nicole pushed the worries and fears from her mind and just held him.

  His fingers were at the waist of her jeans, yanking at the snap, and then shoving down the zipper.

  Her inexperienced Fallen had her jeans down around her ankles in about two seconds, then her panties were gone and his fingers were pushing between her legs. Pushing up, rubbing, stroking her.

  Nicole rose onto her toes as her body tightened. Yes. She loved the way he touched her. He already knew her body. Knew just what she liked. How she needed to be touched.

  He dropped to his knees before her.

  “Keenan ...”

  He spread her thighs and she kicked the jeans away. His breath blew over her sex and sh
e shivered.

  Then his hands were pushing between her legs, and his long, broad fingers slid into her sex.

  She jolted at the first touch, her body so sensitive that she almost climaxed.

  “Not yet.” His growled order.

  His fingers stroked her, plunging harder and deeper now. His thumb brushed over her clit and sent a pulse of electricity right through her body.

  “Beautiful.”

  Her hands clamped down on his shoulders. “Keenan ...” They shouldn’t be there—where was there? She’d never had sex in public, before vamp life or after, and this still counted as public to her and—

  His mouth was on her sex. His tongue drove inside and her knees would have buckled if he hadn’t held her up with his tight grip.

  She came quickly, a hard wave of release that whipped through her.

  The aftershocks still trembled through her sex when he rose up and lifted her. His pants were open now. Oh, he moved fast. He caught her hips, lifted her against the wall, and drove his cock into her.

  The pleasure pulsed.

  His eyes were on hers as he thrust. Deep, driving thrusts. She licked her lips, fought back the hunger and clamped her inner muscles around him—the better to feel that slow, slick glide.

  Her heart thudded in her chest, her breath heaved, and the tension rose again, higher, higher, as her body tightened.

  Her hands were still on his shoulders, curling tightly around him, and she leaned forward, swiping her tongue over his throat. Her teeth scraped his neck, not breaking the skin, just—

  He plunged deeper.

  Her teeth pierced his flesh and the sweet drops of his blood spilled onto her tongue. Her control shattered.

  Nicole climaxed again, drinking, taking his blood as she gulped that sweetness down greedily. He choked out her name as he drove faster, harder, even wilder.

  This time, the climax wasn’t a snap. Or a pop. It was a full-on eruption that had her whole body trembling as the pleasure lashed her.

  He stiffened against her. Nicole’s head lifted. His taste filled her mouth. His eyes—blacker than night—met hers. She felt the jet of his release inside her, the hot splash, and as she watched, she saw the shadow of black wings stretch behind him.

  The air seemed to rustle around her as the wings moved. Her gasps filled the air, his fingers still cut into her hips, but as the pleasure faded, she could only stare at those wings.